


Three-Pointer at the Buzzer

by yuletide_archivist



Category: 21 Jump Street (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-26
Updated: 2008-10-26
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1626701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dennis Booker finds a way to let the members of his team an outlet for releasing tension, and more importantly a chance to have fun in their-off duty hours. Featuring Dennis Booker and Tom Hanson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three-Pointer at the Buzzer

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Geek Mama

 

 

Disclaimer: 21 Jump Street belongs to its creators and FOX tv, etc, as do all of the characters who appear here or are mentioned; they are not mine. Written for Geek Mama's request in the Live Journal New Year Resolutions Challenge 2008.

An indifferent basketball player during his own high school years Tom Hanson realized that even playing an undercover ball player did not make him a good ball player.

Both tensions and tempers had been riding pretty high and a heated argument had broken out. He remembered that the bar at the corner of Larpentur and 34th street was crowded, and they had both been drinking, Booker more so than he; but even so, maybe just maybe he should not have given in so readily. 

If it had not been so late in the evening and so wired from the prolonged stakeout that for a while seemed as if it would never end, or just end by blowing up in their faces, then maybe he would have had a clearer head and certainly slightly better coordination and reflexes.

As it was, here there were on the hot June sun throwing a big orange ball around. The sweat from his exertion made his loose short-sleeved cotton t-shirt cling to Dennis Booker's tall, lanky frame. 

At the outset of the game, Booker had made it very clear that this outing was not mandatory however if he didn't want to go out and play it was his decision. With a clearer head and having spent most of that morning recovering from a hangover Tom Hanson, realized that in his own peculiar method Dennis Booker was using this as an outlet for all of the pent-up frustration and tension of the past several weeks.

"Hey, Hanson," yelled Dennis from across the expanse of the square-off blacktop of the basketball court. "Wake up, already, a tortoise with a snail hitching a ride on its back could move faster you! In fact, I think I just saw one go by. Wake up!"

"I'm paying attention, really I am," mumbled Tom with a brief glance at his the laces of his own sneakers. It was probably a good thing that there were no other people around because he had arrived early enough to practice getting in a few shots before Booker showed up. 

In their close-knit little group it was difficult to keep anything a secret for long, and since he was most often paired up with either Doug, once in a while, Harry, and sometimes Holly, they knew off his indifferent level of skill when it came to playing basketball.

"The rules of the game are simple. The first to twenty-one wins."

Tom offered a shaky but still confident grin. "Then I guess I won't have any trouble remembering, will I?"

"I gotta tell ya something, man" Dennis returned the grin, this time with a pronounced wry twist to it. "I was going to make this an order, in fact, I had thought about making an invitation to the entire squad...."

"Why didn't you?"

"Dunno," Dennis replied reaching up to finger-comb through the unruly patch of his dark hair. "Mebbe I just wanted to be sure you were okay."

"Come on, you can't fool me. I know I may have gone a bit overboard with the whole daring you to do this or else, you chump, attitude, and I was riding you pretty hard back there at the Blue Crane bar, but I mean, I'm not blind."

"What do you mean by that?" Tom demanded.

"Man, we've all been under a lot of pressure lately, and I can seeing that's it's been eating at you, I just thought, well, that maybe we needed something to blow off steam."

"What about the rest of the squad?"

"I thought about it, and but they were out on assignment, and then it hit me, a pick-up basketball game! It's perfect," Dennis voice and face were animated and his eyes shone with a light that Tom had not seen in quite some time. It was obvious that he loved the game and Tom felt like he really should be more excited about the prospect and not let the other man down, instead he said.

"Except that I'm really bad at this." 

Dennis shrugged. "Maybe you are, maybe you're better than you think you are. Okay enough of this; it's time to put or shut up." And with that Dennis thrust the ball that he'd been holding out in front of him and threw to Tom forcing to catch it or risk being hit by it.

Remembering just enough of the fundamentals of the game and it how it was played Tom took the ball out allowing the tapping of the soft soles of his tennis shoes on the asphalt and the movement and rhythm of the game to take his mind off whatever else was churning around his mind. 

Dennis flanked him, with the obvious intent to try and gain back possession of the ball and be the first to twenty-one points and the win the proposed game. 

A sudden thought struck Tom with an almost physical blow, this at first had seemed a chore, a duty, something that Dennis would have done for pleasure, and he was being dragged along because Dennis needed another player. 

And whatever else had passed between them or what might happen, he was right about one thing, he did not an outlet, a release from the pressures inherent in their line of work; up until now, he could have other activities to do that, but once more back in the flow of the game this was not so bad, in fact, it was almost, 'fun.'

Tom had managed to sink a few in the initial going, so his percentages of hoops to air balls and shots that circled the basket and then caromed off was higher than had expected going into the game.

"Come on! Come on!" Dennis was yelling in his ear. After the fifth or was it the seventh time the taller man had managed to gain possession of the ball; at this point Tom had stopped counting. "You see, Tom. You either smoke or you get smoked. You can't have it both ways."

"Yeah, says you!" Tom shot back, coming up with the best rejoinder he could under the circumstances, pausing a couple of seconds to bend over and place his hands on his knees and get his wind back and managed to gasp out: "You haven't won yet. Yet, being the operative word."

"You wish," Dennis replied and jumping up on his toes, with back ramrod street at the yellow painted three-pointer line and hurled the ball towards the basket and came back down, breathing a little hard, but with that trade-mark wry, satisfied grin spreading across his face. He did not say anything for several seconds after taking the shot watching intently as the ball sailed through the air, circled the rim for several heart-breaking seconds and then into the basket."

Dennis made a little chuffing noise and then said : "Nothing but net."

"Show-off." Tom griped, half-mocking.

"What's the score?" asked Dennis. "Honestly I haven `t been keeping track. I was having too much fun."

"10 to 21". 

"Well, I guess, it's game over for you, man."

"Yeah, I was kinda expecting it."

"Well, look on the bright side, you had fun, right, am I right?"

Tom returned the grin and laughed. "When you're right, you're right. "

"Let's get outta here." 

 


End file.
